Radioactive
by oppex
Summary: AU. Young Spirit doesn't have the luxury of switching partners at will, even when his is performing messed up experiments on him, and in the process of dealing with it himself he sets both of them on a new path in a world at war. Contains colorful language, some violent scenes and future mentions of self-harm, along with hurt/comfort elements in later chapters. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

Spirit is sixteen years old when he finds the first scar.

More accurately, Spirit is sixteen years old when he notices the most recent scar, which is fresh. In his subsequent panic he discovers exactly twelve others, and there's only one person that could have made them because there's only one person, one _backwards_ freak that makes stitches like this.

He's in the shower. He screams in frustration, partly because he's covered in _scars_ from where his partner _cut him open_ and partly because he hates himself because there are twelve of them and some of them are old enough to be fading already and he hasn't noticed until just now. He's going to go to Lord Death, right away, he's going to demand a new partner. Sorry, boss, he practices the upcoming conversation in his head, but I can't babysit this fucked up little shit anymore. Find somebody else who's stupid enough to hold the leash on your favorite little attack dog.

But as he finally gets his breathing back under control, he slowly realizes that he can't do that. Who else _would_ put up with Stein? None of the other DWMA students will even look him in the eye. None of the foot soldiers in Death's Army will look at him period, when Stein and Spirit run missions with them, and that's been happening more and more often lately as the war heats up. And Spirit knows their involvement is only going to increase because for once the witches aren't backing down or retreating back into secrecy and they're gaining allies, and because whether the majority of the student body wants to admit it or not Stein is the strongest meister to ever pass through the DWMA's doors and Lord Death would rather kill him than risk the other side being able to use him. Spirit's not stupid, just a little slow, and he can sense that in this scenario, he'll be the one punished for abandoning ship. So he swallows his bile and climbs out of the shower. Gets dressed. And when Stein emerges from his bedroom, still looking half-asleep, Spirit tackles him.

Stein is fourteen when his weapon partner loses his mind.

Or, more accurately, Stein is fourteen when his weapon partner figures out that he's the subject of the grand experiment Stein has been vaguely going on about for the past few years. And while Stein, at fourteen, is extraordinarily strong for his age, Spirit has two years on him and is a weapon, which explains how Stein finds himself pinned on his back several seconds after Spirit tackles him on a Saturday afternoon.

Stein remains relaxed as Spirit aggressively rummages through his pockets, but unease spikes in his chest when his partner triumphantly pulls out the scalpel that Stein keeps on his person at all times.

"Spirit..." he says slowly, not comprehending, even as Spirit pushes his shirt up to his neck.

"Shut up," advises Spirit, who is now practically sitting on top of his meister. "I don't want to hear it. One for every one you gave me." Before Stein can protest Spirit makes the first cut, right under Stein's ribs. It's jagged and not nearly as neat as anything Stein has ever put on him, but that's not the point, the point is making sure Stein never touches him with a scalpel again and he forces himself to keep going as Stein starts to fight him, kicking and screaming as he makes the next cut on the opposite side.

By this point in his life Stein has figured out that he has a fear of being, for lack of a better term, dissected. The things he does to other living things, he knows he could not handle being done to himself. He knows this, but until this exact moment in time, pinned on the floor of his apartment by his partner, he did not know how much worse that fear was when the one person he trusted was the one doing the cutting.

"No," he screams, voice hoarse from effort, "no, no, no, no, _please_, no, I'm sorry, Spirit-"

But Spirit is determined, and by the time he makes incision number twelve Stein has given up and is limp underneath him, crying. He doesn't move when Spirit finally clambers off of him, either, and though he twitches brokenly when Spirit returns with the materials required to stitch shut twelve shallow cuts, he doesn't fight. He thinks he's done fighting because he wants very badly for Spirit to stop punishing him and he can't think of any other way to make that happen.

Spirit's stitching is clumsy at best, and Stein's scars are going to last as long, if not longer, than his will.

"No more fucking experiments," he warns hoarsely, and leaves Stein trembling on the floor to go the bathroom and wash up. He washes his hands first, then leaves the water running while he throws up in the toilet, then rinses his mouth out and washes his face in an attempt to look cool when he exists the bathroom. In their living room, Stein is still on the floor, chest and stomach still exposed along with Spirit's bad stitch job.

"You're such a crybaby," Spirit says with forced apathy, and that is the end of that. And the beginning of a future that is far different than it could have been.


	2. Chapter 2

Stein is eighteen years old as he perches on top of a radio tower in a major U.S. city, the exact location of which he could care less about. He's hundreds of feet in the air, the wind is blowing hard enough that it's a struggle to stay balanced, and if the leering grin on his face is anything to go by, he's having the time of his life.

Three feet or so below him, Spirit is twenty years old and thinks he would rather be considerably closer to the ground than he is.

They're on a mission for Lord Death, as usual. They graduated together from the DWMA two years ago and haven't had time to look back since. They travel with the army now, floating from division to division as they hunt down the most powerful opponents from the other side, and at the moment they're after a relatively small-time operation of powerful weapons who have affiliated themselves with the witches' side of things.

"Idiots," Stein says happily, practically yelling in order to be heard over the wind, continuing a thread from a conversation he and Spirit had been engaged in earlier. "If you go against the rules, you get punished. Everybody knows."

"Okay, first, only you would put it in terms that creepy, second, how about you hurry up and get a fix on them so we can _get down from here_! Christ!"

Stein laughs into the wind, uncaring. Sure, he's using his soul perception to scan the city, and this high vantage point makes it easier, but mostly it's just fun making Spirit uncomfortable. As long as he doesn't push so far that he ends up being punished. Again. Although in fairness, he only tried the cutting experiment one more time on his partner before the corresponding punishment put him off of it for good.

"If you're so scared, transform!"

It's a challenge and Spirit purses his lips at it, but after a few stubborn seconds and a particularly powerful gust of wind, he gives in and lets go of the tower, heartbeat quickening as he transforms with a burst of light. For a half-second he thinks he's flying, falling, that Stein is going to let him drop and he'll panic and forget to stay in weapon form and die, or maybe a five-hundred foot drop is enough to destroy a weapon whether they're transformed or not, but then the second hand ticks forward and he's in Stein's hand, twirled with ease until he rests against his meister's back.

_What a baby,_ Stein teases across the mental link they now share, and is quickly rebuffed by Spirit with a _shut up, I was just conforming to mission standards, I technically was never supposed to break weapon form in the first place, _and it's a testament to how long they've been resonating their souls that Spirit can banter at all without drowning in the thick environment that is Stein's soul wavelength. It's like sinking into water exactly the same temperature as he is, comforting and disturbing all at once, and if he was a lesser weapon he might not be able to handle it.

Still, he has this job for a reason, and despite the thrill of being so high up Spirit can feel Stein relaxing thanks to their link, coming down from that high, and when Stein tries to banter again Spirit cuts him off.

_Focus,_ he scolds, and Stein complies like a child who's been slapped on the wrist by a parent. Stein always has to push the boundaries of their relationship, which leaves Spirit in the position of having to come up with, for lack of a better term, punishments that fit the crime. So, really, it's fortunate that Stein thrives off of an even mixture of positive and negative feedback.

"There," Stein says suddenly, out loud, and when he tenses in anticipation Spirit has to work twice as hard to reel him in. "They're there. I'd say four or five miles." He leans away from the tower, a new grin forming on his face. It's eager, full of what one could call madness, and it's usually the last thing his victims see before expiring.

This is a new reality, and there are changes. Stein has no plans for medical school. Spirit has never really had time to spend with girls, there are no children to his name and he has no plans for fatherhood. Maybe those little ripples across time are why Spirit grins too, even though Stein can't see it, because Stein may be a crazy bastard and they may be five hundred feet above the ground, but Spirit feels more secure in Stein's hands than he did dangling from the side of that tower and he has a feeling they're not going to take the long way down.

_Don't forget, _Spirit reminds as they hang on the edge of the world, _we're supposed to bring two of these assholes back for interrogation._

_And the rest?_ Stein is literally holding on to the tower by a breath now, one foot balanced against the side and four fingers gripping the top the only things keeping him from falling. Spirit laughs across their soul link, letting himself sink further into Stein's mind in anticipation of the coming fight.

_Let's kill'em. _

Stein jumps. It's a terrifying drop, terrifying and real and the wind is so strong he almost doesn't make his landing, and that's going to be one hell of a repair charge for whoever owns the roof he just knocked half the shingles off of but neither weapon nor meister cares. Stein leaps from rooftoop to rooftop and it feels like hardly any time has passed at all when their targets fill Stein's vision. They're lucky enough to have approached from behind and the first of five weapons dies as Stein lands on top of him and buries Spirit's blade in his neck.

Afterward, when four traitorous weapons are dead on the ground and the fifth one has lost his voice from screaming for mercy, Spirit finally manages to surface and separate himself from Stein enough that he can transform back into a human. His first action in this state is to take Stein by the collar, drag him away from his current victim and slam him against the nearest wall.

"The hell was that, Stein? When I say _stop _that means _stop_, the fuck are we gonna tell Lord Death about that guy?" Spirit gestures wildly as he speaks, clearly referring to the lack of a second living person to bring back to Death City. Stein responds with a wheezing laugh, bloody scalpel still dangling limply from one hand. He's still high on adrenaline, on having had his hands buried in someone else's body a measly few seconds previously, and it hasn't properly sunk in yet the kind of trouble he might be in, or maybe it has and he's still so far gone he thinks it's funny, even with Spirit physically shaking him and yelling at him.

Of course, much later, after they've been dealt with by Lord Death and are licking their wounds and their damaged pride, Stein isn't laughing. He's gone morose, slouching in the corner as Spirit gets the details of their next assignment from the captain of the unit they've crashed in Germany.

"I'm going to fix it," Stein says as Spirit approaches him, lifting up one hand as though he's putting a gun to his own head, "I'll put a dial right here and whenever I lose it I can just..."

"Dial it back?" Spirit suggests, unimpressed. "Don't be stupid. You don't need to stick something on the side of your head to follow orders, you just need to learn a little self-control." He drops into a sitting position next to Stein, elbowing him sharply as he notices the way Stein is tugging at his own hair. "We're not kids anymore, you know."

Stein huffs, but obligingly drops his hand back into his lap. The way they're sitting leaves him no personal space, Spirit is nearly sitting on top of him, but rather than complain he just sighs in a manner most long-suffering. "Spirit. I think-"

_There's something wrong with me,_ maybe, or _I don't think I've been punished quite enough, _but he doesn't get to say it because Spirit cuts him off with a bored "Shut up" as he pulls something out of his coat pocket—a pack of cigarettes. Stein stares blankly at him as he fumbles with the pack in the process of removing two cigarettes from it.

"Smoking is bad for you, Spirit," he says blandly, and the comment earns him another elbow from his weapon.

"Next time," Spirit says solemnly, placing a cigarette between Stein's lips before following suit with his own, "we won't fuck up. And I mean we," he adds quickly, sensing an argument from Stein, "because you may be a backwards freak, but it's my job to keep you focused and yesterday I didn't." He pulls out a lighter and lights both cigarettes, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You're my meister, so that means I'm responsible for you. Got it?"

They've been over that particular detail a million times since they first starting working together, and Stein still can't figure out how Spirit can make it sound both reassuring and scolding, but by now he's at least used to it and he nods solemnly in response before taking a careful drag of his cigarette.

The startled coughing that ensues afterward does at least have a couple of bright points; first, Spirit is struggling just as much with his cigarette, as neither of them have smoked before, and second, his coughing spasms gives him the opportunity to brush against Spirit's side, where he knows the scars from his experiments of yesteryear still exist. And if nothing else, sitting next to his meister and choking on cigarette smoke, Stein can tell himself he's got someplace he belongs and believe it.


	3. Chapter 3

Stein is twenty-four years old and he is bleeding to death.

His foe is defeated but at a deadly cost, and he barely notices when Spirit transforms from a scythe to an extraordinarily concerned human in-between dazed blinks. He is only dimly aware of his weapon calling his name, putting his hands on his shoulders and pushing him against the wall, and it is seconds after the fact before he realizes that he is on the ground and Spirit is kneeling in front of him. Stein's mind is full of static and he can't feel the pain from the grievous wound in his abdomen, he just feels heavy and tired and...

...and when he regains consciousness, the only thing between him and the hard ground is a thin mat. He fumbles around, struggling to break through the lethargic fog he's stuck in and figure out where he is and what's going on. He gets no farther than the wound on his torso, which seems to have been stitched shut by a field surgeon. Stein has never been able to stand the thought of someone else cutting him open, which is why a few seconds later the nurse on duty finds him pulling the stitches out, barely conscious as he is. She squawks in protest but before she's even halfway to stopping him a voice from Stein's side stops her.

"Leave him alone," Spirit intones blandly. He's sitting next to Stein, close enough that he could reach out and stop his meister if he wanted to, but he stays where he is, arms crossed over his chest. "He'll stitch it back when he's done." There's a finality to his tone, and it must be impressive because the nurse backs off and leaves meister and weapon alone again.

Spirit is silent while Stein pulls the stitches out. He is silent while Stein loses precious blood as he fumbles for the materials to put new ones in, and he remains silent when Stein finishes re-stitching the wound and goes still. A few minutes pass wherein the only sound is Stein's labored breathing, and when Stein can't take it anymore he speaks.

"Am I in trouble?" his deep, hoarse voice clashes with the tentative tone he's speaking in, but Spirit won't even look at him.

"Go to sleep," he orders in the same bland tone he sent the nurse away with, and that seems to be the end of that. Stein even believes he's gotten away with it, until two days pass and they're making camp in the middle of nowhere after leaving the army encampment behind.

Stein is still recovering from their most recent battle, and after pitching their tent he slumps into a sitting position while Spirit starts a fire outside. He's weary enough he almost starts to doze off—but any thoughts of sleep are banished from his mind when Spirit enters the tent and pushes him onto his back. Stein is far from stupid, he's a _genius_, he knows what's coming and though he knows he's not going to get out of it he whines and squirms anyway as Spirit pushes his shirt up and runs a finger along the jagged patchwork that is Stein's wound.

"You're such a freak," Spirit says, this time not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. "A backwards stupid freak. What the hell were you thinking?" He presses his finger against the wound, prompting another anxious whine from his meister. "What if you hadn't closed it back up in time, huh?" Staring at the ugly wound, Spirit can see it in his mind's eye, Stein laid out on the ground as a faceless nurse pulls a sheet over his head. Sorry, son, he's gone. Why didn't you stop him when he opened it up again?

"Spirit," gasps Stein, pleading. Spirit is lost in a vision of disaster and he's digging into Stein's wound with a viciousness that's making Stein's eyes water. "Spirit, I'm sorry, please stop-"

Spirit pulls back suddenly and before Stein has time to breath he punches him, hard, right underneath the wound, and over Stein's startled cry of pain he starts yelling. "You could've _died_! Idiot!" Stein tries to protect his stomach with his arms but Spirit pushes them away so he can hit him again, and again, punctuating each angry word. "Moron! Dumbass! Don't _ever_-" Spirit pauses, catching his breath, and suddenly he really sees Stein, pale but alive, face wet with tears and whole body trembling, and instead of hitting him again he moves off of him and pushes him away, almost spitefully. "Don't ever do something that stupid again. Got it?"

Stein is curled against the side of the tent, still trembling, and after a second of hesitation Spirit chooses not to push it when his meister doesn't answer.

Hours pass. Spirit cooks something uninspired over the campfire and hovers over Stein to make sure he eats it, and soon after that night falls and Spirit lies down on the side of the tent that's farthest from Stein and tries to sleep.

On the other wall of the tent, a whole three feet away, Stein has hardly moved since his punishment ended. He hasn't even bothered to fix his shirt, leaving his stomach exposed, but he has been thinking—thinking about the stitches in his stomach, telling himself that they're _better_ because he put them there. Thinking about the nasty bruise underneath the stitches, telling himself that he deserves it. Thinking about a time long past when the worst punishment he ever received was a time out in his bedroom, and how it was always followed by his father rocking him to sleep, and suddenly he finds himself longing for...what?

He pulls on a strand of his hair, hard, and then with a grunt of effort he rolls over and shuffles across the tent so he can curl against his weapon instead of the cold tent wall. He presses himself against Spirit's side and when Spirit raises his arm to give him room Stein simply presses closer, his head practically in Spirit's armpit.

This is normal, a regular occurrence for this weapon and meister pair. Stein can't put his finger on it, can't understand what he's feeling or why, but Spirit is all he has and Spirit is the person he spends all of his time with. They're partners, _soul mates, _and that must be why Stein needs to be near him, be touching him, even when he's just been punished and he feels like a monster.

Spirit, for his part, knows exactly how he feels. He lets Stein invade his personal space, slides a gentle hand across the bruise on his stomach before fixing his shirt so that it's covered, and then puts an arm around his meister. Stein doesn't understand it, why he feels safe around Spirit even when he earns a punishment, but Spirit does. They're all each other has, the only other human beings they see on a regular basis, and while it's not an ideal relationship Spirit has long since given in to the realization that, for whatever reason, he has feelings for Stein that go beyond mere fondness.

So there they lie in silence, lulling each other to sleep with the rhythm of their hearts and the rhythm of their souls, on just one more lonely night in the middle of the world, and neither of them can say whether it's wrong or right.


	4. Chapter 4

Spirit is twenty-eight years old, and he is bleeding to death.

The circumstances don't matter, he thinks, as he slides slowly to the ground. He knew this would happen sooner or later, right? He's a powerful weapon but he's not invincible, and these days it's rare for a weapon to make it past the end of their academy days, much less a decade more. So really there's nothing to worry about, except for that noise. He tries to focus on it, because it's insistent, like a siren, but he can't make out what it is or what's making it and it's getting quieter anyway. Quiet and far away...

Stein is twenty-six years old, and to him the noise is incredibly close and incredibly loud. It's his own voice, of course, screaming Spirit's name like a child. No, don't close your eyes, stay awake. Stein would be ashamed of himself if he wasn't so _frantic_, fumbling to apply pressure to the wound. But it's not enough, that much is obvious. Stein has cut himself open and stitched himself back up enough times to feel reasonably confident applying stitches to a wound, but he doesn't have any supplies with him and he can feel Spirit's soul fading. He moans miserably, sucks in a deep breath, and slaps his weapon across the face. Because if Spirit will just wake up and cooperate, they can use Soul Suture and they'll be okay until a medic arrives.

There's no response.

Hours later, a small troop of Death's soldiers finds them. Stein is hunched over his weapon's still form and he only moans and curls tighter when they try to separate the dead from the living. There is a brief discussion, which Stein does not hear or care about, followed by a brief stinging sensation and darkness.

When he wakes, he's in an encampment and a cursory examination reveals that Spirit is nowhere to be found. Determined, Stein exits the tent he's been deposited in and goes in search of his weapon. The first soldier he comes across tries to break the news gently to him, but something in Stein's world has tilted the wrong direction, the radio won't play anything but static, and without even giving it a second thought Stein takes the unfortunate man by the throat and throws him to the ground, stomping on his neck for good measure, and once he's done that he realizes that he's free. Spirit is gone, there's no one left to punish him...so why not have a little fun?

He's destroyed half the camp before they manage to take him down, and while six soldiers hold him down and a panicked field nurse applies a sedative, Stein barks out the laugh of a broken man and embraces the dark.

Days pass, and many of them Stein isn't even aware of. He is drugged, transported, and drugged again, and when he finally wakes up properly he is in a small, dungeon-like cell, moist brick walls and dirt floor. His arms and legs are shackled in front of him in such a way that he is practically forced to sit with his knees to his chest, and while he has a little freedom of movement in his arms it's barely enough to scratch his nose. It's very medieval, he thinks as hysteria bubbles up inside him, good job whoever tossed him in here. Lord Death, right? Of course, very clever. He's claustrophobic and terrified of being restrained. Good job indeed.

"Very—very medieval," he chokes out after the thought processes, but the rest of his inner tirade is lost in a torrent of noise that could be either laughter or sobs. How could he have been so stupid as to assume that no punishment would come to him for killing those under Lord Death's protection?...

Stein isn't aware of how much time passes. It feels like forever, however long it really is, forever trapped in a cell he can't move in with the horrible static noise and his own demons and he wishes they had just executed him instead of leaving him to rot.

In reality, it is not forever. Only a few weeks, while Lord Death considers just how useful his most insane meister is. And one day, when Stein has given up all hope of having peace again, the light arrives.

It's blinding and golden, and as quickly as it appears the static and darkness and terror disappears. Stein is completely entranced, so much so that he gapes at it, forgetting that he is even confined at all.

"Stein," says a gentle voice, and it's like having water poured over him. Spirit always had a calming effect on him, yes, but it was achieved by force. This golden light is...gentle. Stein stirs against his chains, trying to lean forward, and again he hears his name. "Stein. Stein!"

He realizes belatedly that the source of the golden light is a person, and that they're touching his wrists. Where did the shackles go?

"_Stein_," insists the voice, and now they're gently pulling at his arms. "Stein, snap out of it, you've been sitting here for nearly an hour."

Something strikes him, suddenly. A thought. Something isn't right, that light and that voice are soothing but there's something dark there, and once he realizes it it hurts him and he moans.

"Oh, Stein," sighs the voice, and now instead of tugging at his wrists the person takes his hands. "What on earth are you seeing right now?"

"Nothing," he replies automatically, and his voice isn't nearly as hoarse as he thinks it should be. He's missing something. He has to think, quickly, before the static comes back, and on impulse he pulls away from the person in front of him, that golden light with the dark streak of lightning inside, and reaches up to touch his own face. Nothing stops him. He reaches higher, wanting to tug his hair, but instead he finds...

"Oh," he says quietly, and turns the screw. Once. Twice. Three times, and there's an audible _click_ that tells him he can stop. "Oh," he repeats, this time with more feeling. "Marie-"

"I'm here," his weapon replies patiently. Stein finds that she is sitting with him, on the floor of his laboratory in Death City. Naturally. He's under house arrest, isn't he? And Spirit-

"Where's Spirit," he intones blankly. He's got to put everything in order.

"I'm sure he's at one of the usual places," Marie replies, bemused. "If you're worried about him, don't be. Lord Death was never angry over the whole ball fiasco, you know."

"Oh," he says, flat. He's still disoriented. "That was a bad one, wasn't it?" he means, of course, the vivid hallucination he just lived through, but Marie doesn't know that and doesn't want him to dwell on negative details.

"No, no," she soothes. "Would you like to hear what the children have been up to? They really are your students, you know, you won't _believe_ what Black Star got up to yesterday..."

Marie Mjolnir is thirty-two years old, and she is Stein's weapon and parole officer. She prattles on about the day to day business of the DWMA, hoping to keep Stein centered for another day, not realizing the extent of the damage the madness is dealing him.

Stein is thirty years old, and he is mad, but in the end...aren't they all?


End file.
